


Over All Things

by peppermintquartz



Series: Bleachverse [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Death is a release, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And over all things brooding slept<br/>The quiet sense of something lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over All Things

Ichigo paused, his bag strap sliding slowly off his shoulder. He really should be going, but he needed to be sure he was seeing what he was seeing.

_It can't be him. It can't be him. Fuck. Coincidence can't be this – coincidental. But to have Aizen going into the chocolate store he was working part-time at..._

Ichigo rubbed his eyes, then tugged his bag up. He knew better than to doubt eyes that had seen far too many horrors to create mundane illusions. Illusions of a man in a crisp black shirt untucked over dark gray slacks was too simple for his mind to create.

When he got to the shop, the brown-haired man was just exiting. Ichigo waited for the spark of recognition in the kind hazel eyes, but Aizen only nodded and passed the tall undergraduate by without comment.

“What the hell...” Ichigo stepped out of the store, ignoring the admonitions from his boss. “Hey, Aizen!”

The man stopped in the process of unlocking a black Mercedes. “I know you wish a confrontation with me, Kurosaki-kun, but there is someplace else I have to be. I have a prior engagement.”

“We've been hunting you the past five years, y'think I'm letting you run away?”

Aizen paused. Then he half-turned. “Come with me then.”

Ichigo slid into the passenger seat, his shinigami substitute badge easily accessible in his jeans. “This had better be good.”

“I wish it could be, Kurosaki-kun, but I fear 'good' has left the situation long ago.” Aizen turned the key in the ignition. “Please try to dampen your reiatsu as much as possible.”

“Why?”

“You'll understand. Please, indulge me this once.”

Aizen asking so politely made Ichigo's head spin. It wasn't making sense, but neither was hopping into the same car driven by the number one enemy of Soul Society. “... Fine.”

***************

It was white, cool and quiet. Aizen's footfalls barely sounded against the pale cream tiles, and Ichigo tried his best to muffle the squeak of his sneakers. He wondered who was so important that Aizen would drive Ichigo along with him than delay this meeting.

There was a woman waiting outside a door. Aizen handed her the box he had purchased earlier. Ichigo frowned; this was the VIP?

“Aizen-san. He's doing well today.” She smiled briefly. “Would you like to have tea in the garden?”

“Thank you, that would be very nice. Please bring in another chair for my guest.” After the woman left, Aizen said quietly to Ichigo, “I appreciate your effort to keep your reiatsu reined in. When you see him, please do not react or make any loud noises. I need your promise on this.”

Ichigo chewed on his cheek. “Fine. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Aizen knocked twice on the door and pushed in. Ichigo followed, resolved to hold his tongue. The second Aizen had stopped outside the hospice Ichigo knew he had to restrain his infamous temper. Someone was very sick, so sick that even Aizen couldn't help.

 _Not even Aizen could help._ Ichigo's guts tightened. Somehow that thought was terrifying in its cruel simplicity.

A thin figure sat in a bed far too large for him, the shock of silver hair longer than Ichigo remembered.

“Aizen-sama?” the person said, the smile still present. If he had been pale before, he was now deathly white.

Ichimaru Gin.

“Gin,” the former overlord of Las Noches sounded intensely gentle as he moved to the bed and sat beside his lieutenant. _Lieutenant? Who are you kidding, Ichigo? They're lovers. “_ You look great today.”

“I feel great.” Ichimaru rested his head on Aizen's shoulder, his long, thin fingers linking easily with the tanned, firm ones in his lap. “I had a good dream.”

“Really? Was I in it?” Aizen's voice had dropped to a low murmur. Ichigo, still at the door, almost could not catch his words.

Gin chuckled. “Could've been a cameo.”

“Only a cameo?” A teasing kiss on the silver hair.

“Alright, feature role.” That much banter seemed to drain the former captain. His lidded gaze flicked up to the stony Kurosaki Ichigo. “Hi there, Kurosaki-kun. It's good to see you.”

A polite response seemed appropriate. “Hey.”

Aizen tucked his arm under Gin's frame and carried him off the bed in a swift, fluid motion. “Let's go for our tea, hmm?”

“Yay.” Ichimaru nuzzled under his lover's chin.

Ichigo studied the frail man in Aizen's arms as they made their way out to the garden. Ichimaru had been the first captain he faced in Soul Society, and he remembered losing. Back then the man had just been a fox-faced shinigami, stronger than most, stranger than all. And now the silver-haired man was so thin he was a shadow.

“How are you doing, Kurosaki-kun?” asked Ichimaru when they had settled down. He nibbled on a chocolate that Aizen had provided from a box. “You must be in college now, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah. Literature major.” He saw the tender look in Aizen's face as Ichimaru finished up the small treat. “Um, call me Ichigo. S'not like we don't know each other.”

“That'd be nice.” Gin smiled. “You make a good visitor, Ichigo. Quiet and soothing. I'd have thought you'll be an abrasive presence.”

“I didn't grow up in a clinic for nothing,” retorted Ichigo gently.

Aizen sipped from his cup as the two younger men conversed. Well, mostly Ichigo spoke, about his college life, about his shinigami duties, about his friends in college...

“And do you have a lover?” rasped Gin after a while.

Ichigo sputtered into his cup. “H-how did we get from King Lear to this?” he stammered out the question. “And no, I don't. Haven't found anyone yet.”

“Hmm.” Gin sat back against his cushions. “Or perhaps you haven't been searching in the right places.”

Aizen put down his cup. “Time to go in, love.”

“Another ten minutes?”

“Five.”

“Okay.”

It sounded rehearsed to Ichigo's ears. They must have had the same exchange dozens of times. Both actors acting the same scene, every time the curtain went up. But each time the emotion ran anew in their veins, made the scene real and new.

Somehow, finishing his own tea while the two held hands, Ichigo felt a sour pang beneath his heart. _They are evil, Ichigo, never forget that, they wiped out half of Gotei Thirteen. They maimed Renji, blinded Chad and killed Kenpachi and Rukia. Don't forget what they are._

But it was evident that the love the two had was deeper and more real than anything Ichigo had ever witnessed.

“Na, Ichigo,” Gin's voice interrupted his brooding. “Could you come by tomorrow, morning perhaps?”

“Can I?” Ichigo asked – not of Gin, but of Aizen. The older man inclined his head. There was nothing he would deny Gin now, Ichigo could tell. “Alright then. I'll pop in at nine, before my classes.”

***************

Aizen drove Ichigo back to the chocolatier. “It's something that his gigai is doing.”

“I haven't even asked,” protested Ichigo mildly.

“I know,” said Aizen quietly. “He wanted to protect me, and took too great blow from Grimmjow. Your Espada friend.”

“That was why you deserted the battle?”

“Yes. I knew he had fallen, and I could only put him into a gigai to recover. But he didn't recover – Gin took it upon him to reseal the hougyoku, to keep it from Seireitei. And he transferred himself into Urahara's untraceable gigai.”

Understanding dawned on Ichigo. “He made himself human?”

“And now the hougyoku's struggling to be free, and destroying Gin in the process.” The knuckles on the steering wheel whitened dangerously. “I should never have activated it. I should have silenced it.”

“But he has fought it for so many years, hasn't he?”

“He fights because he fears death.”

Ichigo looked out the window, then spoke. “Perhaps he fights because of you.”

“Perhaps. But I am not worthy.” Was it Ichigo's imagination? “I have lost my worth the day I wanted the hougyoku.”

“Gin would disagree.”

“He disagrees with most things I say, but he goes along with it anyway.” A faint smile. “Remember to be on time tomorrow, Kurosaki-kun.”

***************

Ichimaru was already awake and pushing a bit of scrambled egg around his plate when Ichigo entered the pristine, white room.

“Ichigo. You're on time.” The smile was almost genuine. “Please, have a seat.”

“Good morning,” Ichigo said, dropping his book bag on the ground. The young man observed the frail shinigami for a long beat. “How are you?”

“Better than last night,” Ichimaru said frankly. He nodded at the orderly, who took the breakfast away. With a sigh Ichimaru slid off the bed. “They say it's a well-balanced breakfast, but it's blander than porridge, no matter what they cook. I miss Aizen-sama's breakfasts.”

When the silver-haired man wobbled Ichigo dashed up to assist him. The former captain chuckled. “Thanks, kid. Put me in the wheelchair and let's go for a walk, hmm?”

Ichimaru was practically weightless. The sun and fresh air revitalized him, somewhat. There was still the same smile on his face – unreadable, imperturbable. Ichigo didn't know what he was doing, really. He had nothing to tell Ichimaru other than surface trivialities, and he had exhausted those reserves yesterday. He was startled when he felt a cool hand on his.

Ichimaru was patting his hand gently. “It's alright, Ichigo. There isn't any need to talk. I just need you to listen.”

“I'm listening.”

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you, Ichigo,” Ichimaru began, his voice no longer the facetious, light tone he used regularly. “In fact, I owe you far too much. I owe you Rukia's life, and I'm much obliged you haven't killed me yet.”

“You're human now, and helpless,” Ichigo said, the bile rising in the back of her throat. “I can't possibly murder you.”

“But I am dying, so you don't need to sully your hands with my death. Like you said, I am helpless.” He chuckled humorlessly. “It's really ironic, considering.”

“Yeah, it is.” Ichigo stopped the wheelchair under a tree, near a bench. Ichimaru slowly moved from his wheelchair to the seat, and patted the space on his left for Ichigo to sit.

The breeze stirred the leaves into a hushed dance. Ichimaru sighed. “I used to think I fear death, but I don't.”

“Oh?”

“I don't fear dying anymore. It's just another passage.” He smiled tiredly. “Zaraki thought I was afraid to die. He was wrong.”

Ichigo looked at his feet. There were scuff marks on his shoes, and there was a pretty pink pebble in the gravel near the edge of the grass.

“When I die, they will come and take me to Seireitei, to face judgment. I can't escape that, and I'm not going to try. I'm ready for them.”

“You go back to Seireitei and they will probably put you in jail.”

“Incarceration is far too optimistic, Ichigo. They will probably execute me. If I'm lucky, it will be the Soukyoku – if they have repaired it – and if I'm unlucky, I'm reincarnated.”

Ichigo frowned. “I think you have the last two confused.”

“No.” The denial was swift and firm. “I would rather be obliterated than to be reborn.”

“Why?” It didn't make sense to Ichigo. He was less bitter about Rukia and Kenpachi's death simply because he knew they were alive and well somewhere else on earth. It still hurt, yes, but he never truly lost them.

Ichimaru tilted his head. “I love Aizen-sama. I try not to, but I can't help it.”

_What has that got to do with anything?_

“I remember everything, Ichigo. The first time we met, in a corridor. Our first kiss. His scent. The first time I saw his eyes without his glasses – beautiful eyes that took my breath away. The way he said good morning. How he would smile if I said something that amused him. That he hates rice cakes of any sort. Our evening talks. His fascination with information and psychology. That he couldn't dance until I taught him. The way he looks at me. Everything.”

Ichigo was silent, caught up with the depth of affection in Ichimaru's tone. The silver-haired man closed his eyes tiredly. “I remember everything we did together, and I don't want to forget them. Ever. And if... if I was to be reincarnated, I will forget. I'll forget everything. I'll forget how his lips would brush my forehead. I'll forget the contrast of his skin against mine. I'll forget that he's a wonderful cook, that he can't sing to save his life, that he would never admit that he loves me, but I know anyway because he shows it. And I'll forget even that. And I can't, Ichigo. I can't.”

The declaration seemed to bleach what color Ichimaru had gained from the fresh air and morning sun. Even though he was an enemy, Ichigo felt moved to cover the almost claw-like hands with his own. The man sounded almost... broken.

“I would rather be obliterated with all my memories intact than exist without them.”

“You wouldn't know, Ichimaru,” Ichigo had to speak; he was feeling too much for his foes. He was losing focus. “You wouldn't know there had been a 'you' before that.”

“And yet.” Ichimaru's rejoinder was sharp and to the point.

They sat in more silence. A squirrel dared to skip closer, its dark eyes watching the two lanky figures in the bench. Finally Ichigo spoke. “What is it you wanted me to do?”

“Keep Aizen-sama away from Seireitei until I have been sentenced and the sentenced carried out.”

“What?”

Ichimaru grinned, the fox still present despite the weakness. “He will tear everything down and kill everyone in his way to get to me, if he feels he has to. Your job is to keep him from doing so.”

Ichigo turned to face him. “You can't be serious,” he finally said, “You mean you're expecting me – one person – to rein Aizen Sousuke in?”

“Not just one person. You are a vizard, you faced down the Espada, you've grown in all the shinigami arts the past few years – I assume – it's not an impossible task.”

Ichigo was speechless. “I... um, I dunno if I'm up to it.”

“You'll have to.” Ichimaru stood up and stumbled to the wheelchair. “I feel the end coming, and it will be hard on him. Keep him away from the rest of your friends, Ichigo, away from Soul Society. Get Urahara's help if you need to.”

“I'll try my best,” Ichigo said. “I'm doing it for my friends though, not for you, not for him.”

“I know. I still appreciate it.”

***************

Aizen was waiting in Ichimaru's room when they returned. Ichigo picked up his book bag and sauntered out, giving the two some privacy. He really should inform Soul Society of their presence, but seeing Ichimaru reduced to that shell of his former self...

He shook his head. From the ajar door he watched Aizen press a chaste kiss to Ichimaru. The younger man was in his captain's lap, head resting on the broad shoulder. Their hands were linked, and Aizen was reading softly from a book to his lover. There was a tender smile on the brown-haired man's face, a light in his eyes whenever Ichimaru made a comment.

_He would never admit that he loves me, but I know anyway because he shows it._

Ichigo wondered if he could do it, when the time came to hold Aizen back. And why did he feel jealous that the two most evil persons he had ever known shared a bond he could only imagine?

***************

Urahara closed his fan. “You're saying they're here in this town and no one else knows besides you?”

“And now you. That's all the people I want to know, for now.” Ichigo bit his lower lip. “When I saw Aizen I wanted to kill him immediately. But when I saw Ichimaru...”

“You couldn't,” supplied Urahara when Ichigo faltered.

“I couldn't.” The orange-haired youth looked up. “You couldn't if you saw them together.”

The shopkeeper snorted. “I've had the great misfortune to have seen them together, many decades ago. No need to reprise the scene.” He sighed. “And yes, I know I won't be able to.”

Ichigo leaned on his elbows on the table. “What about his request?”

“I think...” Urahara considered his words. “I think we should try to accede to it. It is to our benefit. I'll tag you for the next few weeks, just so I know when to step in to help.”

“Thanks, old man.”

“I'm not old. I'm not even drawn that way.”

“Fine. Old pervert.”

“Much better.”

***************

***************

When Ichigo returned to visit Ichimaru the next day he heard the former captain pleading. He decided to wait outside the room rather than embarrass Ichimaru.

“Please, I wanna go home, I want to _be_ at home. I'm better, I swear. I've been away from home for three weeks and I can't stay here any more and I'm going crazy without you being here when I wake up at night.... please, Aizen-sama let me go home I swear I will be fine. Please, please...”

“Shh... hush, sshhh... It's alright, Gin, relax, you have to relax, calm down, Gin, we'll get you home, okay? Calm down. I'll get the paperwork done tomorrow.”

“No, not tomorrow, today, _now!_ I can't stand this place anymore! Please, please...”

Ichigo bit his lip. The anguish was too raw, too close. The last time he heard anything like this was when his father was cut down defending Yuzu and Karin – no. Not going there. His dad was fine, resuming his captain position in the Gotei in the third division. It was lonely relying on his alarm clock instead of a patented twister-kick-triple-punch combo in the morning, but he was dealing. His sisters were dealing too.

“I'll get it done now. We'll go home, and you can play with Yuki, okay? Now lie down and relax. Once the paperwork's done, we'll be going home.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The door opened and Aizen actually jerked back when he noticed Ichigo leaning against the wall. “When did you-”

Ichigo looked away down the corridor. “Early. I, uh... you need help with the paperwork?”

Aizen almost-smiled. “It's alright. It's just a few forms. Why don't you go in and keep him company, just for a while?”

***************

Ichigo felt like the third wheel in the car, but he couldn't turn Ichimaru down after the invitation was extended.

Aizen opened the door to the house. It was a simple affair, one of the old-style dark-roofed white-walled houses. The path was shadowed with fir trees. Ichigo had to admire Aizen and Gin's taste; it was very tranquil and comforting.

“Home again,” Ichimaru beamed as he entered. “Yuki-chan?”

A cat sashayed out from a hallway and wandered up to Ichimaru. The man swept the cat up in his arms, smiling as the feline nuzzled him affectionately.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “You named your black cat Yuki?”

“Mm-hmm.” Ichimaru had set his pet free, but the cat merely sat on his foot. “Which reminds me: how is Hisagi-san?”

“He's fine, captain of the ninth now.” Ichigo frowned. What did the cat have to do with Renji's lover anyway?

Aizen took the coat from Ichimaru's shoulders. “Hey. Let's get you settled, hmm? I'll get dinner ready. Kurosaki-kun, are you having dinner with us?”

With a glance at Ichimaru's smile, Ichigo shrugged. “Um. Why not? I'd like to.”

***************

The hammock swayed lightly as Aizen deposited Ichimaru in it. Ichigo pulled up a rattan chair. Yuki, the black cat, ignored Ichigo entirely and jumped on Ichimaru's stomach, demanding to be petted, and Ichimaru obliged.

“She looks like Yoruichi,” said Ichigo after a while.

“It's a he, genius. Nah, Yuki has a white patch on his tummy. See?” The feline mewled a protest at the demonstration, but resumed purring when Ichimaru tickled his fuzzy belly. “Pass me the scissors and the envelop on the table, will you?”

Ichigo wondered what Ichimaru was going to do. To his surprise the former captain pulled a lock of silver hair and cut a length off, then tucked it in the envelop.

“Pass it to Hisagi when you see him, alright? Tell him Yuki wishes him all the best.”

“The cat wishes him all the best?”

Ichimaru scoffed. “Yuki wishes him all the best. Six words. That's all.”

“Alright.” Ichigo felt rather out of place in the house. Everything was immaculately Aizen's or Ichimaru's, and Ichigo had the uncomfortable sensation of being an intruder. He stood up. “I'm gonna go... take a look at what Aizen is cooking.”

“Okay.” Ichimaru closed his eyes, humming a low tune. “Bring me a glass of water please.”

“Yeah.”

***************

Aizen was staring blankly at the pot simmering on the stove.

“I thought a watched pot never boils,” joked Ichigo dryly.

“Does that hold true for a dying man? Because I would never let him out of my sight then.” Aizen's voice was flat, unlike the rich tones that characterized his usual confidence.

Ichigo paused. “I don't think so.”

“It killed me to have him placed under human medical care. I had to; I couldn't tell what was wrong with him and I needed to research. Years of nothing. No symptoms, nothing. And then he just...” Aizen looked away, as though he was feeling actual emotion.

Unnerved, Ichigo poured a glass of water for himself and another for Ichimaru. “What are you going to do then?”

“I can't take the hougyoku out now, not without killing him. It has fused with his soul.” He let out a short bark of laughter. “The one thing I needed to get what I wanted is killing the only person I... the only person I have ever truly cared for. Dramatic irony.”

Ichigo swallowed. “He's dying, isn't he?”

“Yes. He is.” Aizen closed his eyes. Then he smiled. “That water is for him?”

“Yeah. I'll bring it over now.”

As he headed out of the kitchen he thought he saw Aizen cover his eyes, leaning against the counter, before the older man dragged his hand over his face and turned off the stove.

***************

***************

It became routine for Ichigo to drop by Aizen and Ichimaru's place after school. Yuzu and Karin boarded with Tatsuki's family, while his place at Urahara's was still under observation with the foster care unit. Urahara knew it was Ichigo's way to check on Ichimaru and didn't interfere.

The man in question always seemed cheerful when Ichigo turned up. Aizen would just half-smile and leave them to chat, as if granting a small boon on the undergraduate.

But Ichigo wished that Aizen would throw him out, ban him from visiting, because day by day Ichigo could see Ichimaru fading. What used to be luster in his silver hair was gone. Cheekbones protruded and even that irrepressibly mocking smile only flashed on and off these days, as if even maintaining a facade was too hard on the man.

And Ichigo wondered if he was doing the right thing by visiting. He asked, one night after Aizen had tucked his lover into bed.

“I think it's good for him to see people other than me,” he said. They were having tea on the porch. Yuki was sprawled over Aizen's lap, wide-eyed, as though listening to every word. “It also gives me a chance to unwind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm a good actor, but even I need time away from my role.” He sighed. “Gin's so careful, trying not to worry me, but he's... I've never felt so helpless in my life.”

The honest admission jarred Ichigo to the core. Aizen's face was shadowed, his eyes obscured by dark locks. Ichigo swallowed, uncertain if he wanted to witness this vulnerable aspect of an enemy he had hated for years.

The cat slid off Aizen's lap and sauntered off. Ichigo looked at it, wondering if he should excuse himself and go as well. Aizen sighed. “If you want to leave, feel free. I won't-”

“Aizen!!”

The anguished scream from Ichimaru's bedroom got both Ichigo and Aizen to their feet, the older man faster than the undergraduate in reaching Ichimaru.

The silver-haired man was crying, gripping Aizen's shoulders so tightly the yukata was pulled askew. Aizen rocked his lover lightly in his arms, kissing his crown, uttering soft words. Ichimaru was gulping air in, trying to regain his composure.

Ichigo stood in the bedroom, unsure if he should back out or move forward or stand where he was. He shifted from one foot to the other. The scream for help had tapped direct into his reactions – he hadn't registered the caller until he skidded to a stop.

“You weren't there, I called for you but you weren't there,” Ichimaru was babbling tearfully. “I tried to stop him, tried to stop them. I tried, I swear, but you were gone.”

“I'm here, I'm here, love. I'm here, right with you.” Aizen caressed Ichimaru's back soothingly, brushing silver hair back. “I'm still here, I'll never leave. I will never leave.”

“I couldn't find you... gods, Aizen-sama, I couldn't, I couldn't find you at all. And they all tried to stop me – all of them. Ichigo. Urahara. Kira. Shuuhei. Byakuya. They tried to stop me reaching you, tried to- you weren't there, Aizen-sama.”

Pulling away Aizen cupped Ichimaru's face and kissed the damp lips and silenced the babbling. Ichigo flushed and looked at the floor. Then he heard the shuffle of fabric and he backed away, eyes still downcast. Eventually, at the door, the young man glanced up and saw how Ichimaru had tangled his fingers into thick brown hair, clinging to Aizen's presence, and decided that it would be best for him to let himself out of the house now. The door slid shut with barely a click.

Only Yuki registered that Ichigo left. The cat sat by the front door, eyes fixed on the departing young man, and returned to the sanctuary of the house.

***************

Ichimaru was seated in the rattan armchair when Ichigo came by the next day. “Sorry about last night,” he said by way of greeting. “Vivid nightmare.”

“I've been there myself,” said Ichigo. He quirked a smile. “I didn't have anyone to cry out to though.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It is.”

Aizen came over, a tray of drinks and snacks. “Hello Kurosaki-kun.”

“Aizen. Hey.” Ichigo fidgeted with the chain on his belt loop.

The three sat in silence. Then Ichimaru perked up. “Know what I'd like?”

“Hmm?” Aizen looked over.

“Ice-cream. Do we have ice-cream?”

“No we don't. I can buy some now.” The smile that met Aizen's offer was dazzling.

Ichigo felt a stab of envy – if only he had someone who smiled at him like that at the smallest suggestion. He spoke up. “I could go-”

“No, you don't know what flavors I love and which is my favorite store. Aizen-sama, please?”

Aizen sighed and ruffled Ichimaru's fine hair. The younger man looked better than he had the past few days. “Alright. You stay here and rest. Kurosaki-kun, watch over him.”

“I will.”

As soon as Aizen's Mercedes roared down the road outside, Ichimaru smiled at Ichigo. “The bedroom, please.”

Frowning, Ichigo obliged and carried him to bed. The silver-haired man lay quietly, tracing his thin fingers over a picture of his captain. Then he picked up a woven cricket and adjusted its position. “You can come in now.”

“Who?” The orange-haired youth was genuinely perplexed.

“He means me,” said a voice outside the window. Ichigo looked up and saw Hitsugaya Toushiro, captain of the tenth, slipping into the room. “Ichimaru Gin.”

“I'm ready.” Ichimaru smiled weakly. “Remember your promise, Ichigo.”

“Yeah, I'll try my best.” The youth had to blink back the sudden burn behind his eyes.

Ichimaru's smile faltered. “He's been through so much. He should never have had to go through this as well. If only I were stronger... I should've been stronger.”

Ichigo had to turn away forcefully. _He's evil, Ichigo. He slaughtered and tortured and killed... and he loves his captain beyond death. He's... I don't know what to think any more. I want him to face judgment, I also want him to live, I... I don't know. I don't know._

A single sigh, and then Ichigo felt the exit of Ichimaru's soul from his gigai. He turned around and was startled by the altered appearance of Ichimaru Gin. There was a network of black veins all over his limbs and up his neck, framing his face.

“Oh my god...” Ichigo had to hold back his fear.

“Yeah, I know. The hougyoku is here,” Ichimaru parted his white kimono, and a dark orb pulsed faintly in Ichimaru's chest. “Come on, Hitsugaya-taichou. Let's go. Ichigo... tell him I love him.”

The captain opened a gateway silently. He had to bring Ichimaru for judgment, not to send him for soul burial. The two left, and Ichigo swallowed. Here was the difficult part. _I'd better be in my shinigami form._

***************

Aizen returned in twenty minutes. “Sorry for the wait, there was a queue-”

He stopped in his tracks, seeing the look on the youth's face. Ichigo stood in front of the bedroom door, then moved aside for Aizen to enter.

Aizen began to walk, each tread seeming to take more effort than the last. Ichigo was behind Aizen when the older man made his way to the bed.

“No. No, not like this.” Ichigo heard Aizen whisper. “Not without saying goodbye. Not like this.”

Ichigo tensed, ready for action. Aizen only sat on the bed and embraced the sleeping form, the thin, frail gigai that had housed the spirit of Ichimaru for five years. “Without even a goodbye? Not like this, Gin. Not like this.”

Ichigo was floored. Was Aizen grieving? Was he dealing? “He... he said to tell you... he loves you.”

“You were supposed to watch him.” The voice cut like a whip. Aizen hadn't turned around, hadn't looked at Ichigo, but the force of Aizen's reiatsu was a tsunami slamming into him. “You didn't.”

“He had to go, Aizen,” Ichigo managed to speak despite wanting to crumple to his knees.

“Where was he taken?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Then I'll just find out myself. Yuki, come here.” The black cat padded out, unaffected by Aizen's reiatsu.

Ichigo got to his feet, Zangetsu at the ready. Aizen picked Yuki up and placed the feline on the gigai's chest. Then he got to his feet, pulling out of his gigai. “ _Hado ninety-five, Captured Time._ ”

A firm bubble formed around the thin form and the cat. Without looking at Ichigo, whose sword was poised, Aizen opened a gate to Soul Society.

Ichigo darted in front of Aizen. “No, Aizen. You can't-”

“I can and I will.” Aizen's gaze was dead, as was his voice. “Get out of my way, Ichigo. You made him smile. I don't want to hurt you.”

“He told me to keep you here.”

“You do not have the power.”

Aizen strode forward, and Ichigo had to grit out the words. “ _Bankai._ ”

 


	2. The Quiet Sense

Ichigo gritted out the command for Zangetsu to go to bankai mode, but before he could attack he felt a sword through his abdomen. He was shocked for only an instant, before the searing pain kicked in.

“I don't want to hurt you,” said Aizen, his voice still emotionless. “Doesn't mean I won't.”

Ichigo felt the tear of a blade out of his flesh, and blindly grabbed at the zanpakuto. “No,” he rasped hoarsely. “He said to keep you here.”

“He did, did he.” The sword moved a half-inch out of Ichigo. “But there is something he forgot.”

Ichigo tightened his grip, vaguely aware that he might lose his fingers but determined nonetheless. “I promised him that I will keep you here.”

Aizen's eyes narrowed, then he let go of his sword. Ichigo took that information in but was stunned when Aizen grabbed Zangetsu. With a straight punch to Ichigo's face, he knocked the young man away and opened the gate again. In a flash the older shinigami was gone, and Ichigo cursed.

“Don't move,” someone muttered. “Didn't think he'd leave Kyoka Suigetsu behind. Caught me by surprise, again.”

_Urahara._

“Just a straight thrust. If he'd ripped you apart like he did the last time, I'll panic.” Urahara's ministrations were deft, but his voice was shaky. “I should've come in earlier.”

“Aizen-”

“Ukitake knows. I told him once I felt you go bankai.” The blood was staunched. “If only I hadn't had to deal with that nagging woman from foster care about the Shoten's suitability for your sisters... Come on, we got to get you to Inoue-san for healing.”

“No, the hot spring will do, then I'm going in.” Before the older man could protest Ichigo overrode him. “I promised. Even if it's for an evil bastard like Ichimaru, I'll keep that promise.”

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The healing waters stung, but Ichigo was glad it restored him partially. The thirty minutes he had taken had been far too long, but even with Aizen's abilities he couldn't fight through all of Gotei without Kyoka Suigetsu.

“I'm going with you.” Urahara pressed his hat down firmly. He extended Benihime and the gate opened. Ichigo wanted to argue, but thought the better of it. Urahara chuckled. “Growing a brain at last, Ichigo.”

“Shut up. Let's go.”

***************

The cold air that greeted them as they set foot was nothing compared to the chill of the absolute calm.

“Can you sense him?” asked Ichigo.

“No.” Urahara frowned. “I don't understand. Where is everyone?”

Ichigo started off to the soutaichou's residence, knowing that Urahara would be casting his reiatsu about to detect Aizen. They sprinted along the pristine roads, startled by the complete silence: there was no one about. No one at all. It was eerie. Inside, Ichigo was panicking. It wasn't possible for Aizen to massacre all of Seireitei in half an hour, powerful the man might be. And were were the usual shinigami-going-about-their-business? The cleanup crews? The runners? Urahara's gaze was hard and flinty whenever Ichigo took a look at him; the man was equally worried.

Then a sudden flare of reiatsu startled them both. Ichigo skidded to a halt, trying to determine where that signal came from, and realized that it was coming from the Central Hall. The large white dome dominated the skyline at what used to be the Central 46 chambers.

“Shit,” muttered Ichigo. “Of course they're all there.”

Urahara chuckled bitterly. “The trial of Ichimaru Gin. Biggest show in Seireitei. I should've thought.”

***************

Ukitake had sent his vice-captain Sasakibe to get Ichigo and Urahara. Komamura and Hitsugaya were on guard duty, and their two divisions ringed the large judicial auditorium. Inside, there were tier upon tier of shinigami, right up to the edge of the dome. The captains and lieutenants were sitting in the first row, and all were staring at a figure before them. Ichigo couldn't see over the crowd that blocked the way from the door to the captains.

Urahara nodded. He would wait outside with Komamura and Hitsugaya. Sasakibe directed the way into the hall with Ichigo in tow.

“... and do you confess to the charges, Ichimaru-san?”

“Yep, I do.” The irrepressible tone was definitely Ichimaru's, and it was faint but clear. Ichigo pushed his way to the front, Sasakibe in the lead, and found themselves between a glowering Kyoraku Shunsui and an impassive Kuchiki Byakuya.

Ichimaru was sitting in an oversized, cushioned chair in the center of the room. Unohana-taichou stood to the side, ready to administer aid when necessary. The black veins that spiderwebbed over Ichimaru's frame seemed to pulsate and glow. Ichigo felt nauseated by the sight – he had seen them before, but it still unnerved him.

Ukitake was listening to the proceedings, not leading them. Ichigo was surprised; he thought the new soutaichou would head the court. But that was Ukitake, of course; mercy and justice blended.

“I confess to all the charges. I'm guilty. Pronounce sentence already.” There was no fear in Ichimaru's gaze. Ichigo furrowed his brow and decided to exit. Aizen would come, he was sure of it. Urahara tilted his head, indicating that he would wait outside. Ichigo looked again at Ichimaru, seeing how he seemed to shrink into the cushions with every passing second. The black veins pulsed threateningly, visible even from this distance. Ichigo shook his head; he had to leave. He had to be ready for Aizen.

_And what are you going to do when he comes?_

“And you think that we'll let you off with that confession?!” someone in the large auditorium yelled. “You killed my sister!”

“You experimented on my squad, you bastard! Turned them into hollows!!”

“Fuck you, Ichimaru! You fuckin' traitor – you son of a bitch, you-”

“Enough,” Ukitake held up a pale hand. “There is no need to insult him. Captains, lieutenants, do you have anything you wish to say?”

Silence. Ichigo halted. Should he speak? What would he say? What should he say?

“I will speak.”

Ichimaru's voice fluttered above the silence. “Kira.”

“Ichimaru-taichou.”

“I haven't been your captain for years, Kira. You can call me anything you want.”

“Ichimaru-taichou. I just wanted you to know that I – I have never ceased... I never will.” Kira's voice hitched faintly. “I now ask the court for mercy.”

“He deserves none,” countered Hisagi in his low voice. “Not after all the things he did.”

Kira did not look at Hisagi. “I know what he did, Shuuhei. I know what he has done because most of it, he did to me. You hate him because of Renji. I love Renji almost as much as you do. Nevertheless, I ask for mercy on Ichimaru-taichou's behalf.”

Ikkaku, the new captain of the eleventh, said nothing. If his Kira wanted Ichimaru to live, then he would not interfere. Kurosaki Isshin frowned lightly – he hadn't expected his lieutenant to speak up on Ichimaru's behalf. The sudden rise in agitated whispers all over the auditorium shook the other captains out of their reverie.

Ichimaru laughed, a light, mocking tone. “I appreciate that, Kira. But I will take the harshest sentence ya have. The soukyoku is repaired. Let's test it out.”

Before anyone else could say a word, a runner dashed in. “Ukitake-soutaichou, he's here.”

The white-haired captain-general issued commands quickly. “Shunsui, Ikkaku, Soi Fon, you know what to do. Captains, ready your divisions.”

Ichimaru sat up straighter, his eyes searching. Then he saw Ichigo and shook his head, the smile faded. He began to push himself out of the large chair. Unohana was by the former captain's side, restraining him, but Ichigo saw the words that formed on the pale lips.

_You promised._

“Fuck,” Ichigo muttered as he dashed out along with some shinigami.

***************

Aizen didn't have his sword, but he had Zangetsu. He also had a small bag slung over his shoulder. Judging from the buzz, Zangetsu was suffering under Aizen's grip, but couldn't work against the man's will. Ichigo stopped just behind the imposing bulk of Komamura, trying to find a way to regain control of his sword.

“Let him out.” Aizen's voice still held no emotion.

Hitsugaya was already in shikai form. “No.”

“Then get out of my way.”

“No.” Hourinmaru was angled for the first strike. “I can't do that.”

Aizen tilted his head, as if seeing the youngest captain for the first time. Then there was a flash and a black crescent shot forward, shoving Hitsugaya back almost twenty paces.

Ichigo paled. “Getsuga Tenshou,” he whispered. How did Aizen manage to subdue Ichigo's sword and make it do his bidding?

Hitsugaya clambered to his feet, before launching himself airward. He swooped down again, crashing blades with Aizen. The white-haired captain slowed just above a roof before the ice-wings disappeared abruptly. Judging from Hitsugaya's expression, that was not what he had intended to do. Aizen ignored him.

“Ah, Ichigo. You're here early. I had to make my way from Rukongai and the east gate.” Aizen's smile was even more mask-like than Ichimaru's usual one. He tossed the oversized blade to the youth, who caught it easily. “Here's your sword. He's a good one.”

“Aizen, Ichimaru wants this,” said Ichigo, stepping forward, trying to ignore the low growling from Komamura behind him. “He wants it to end.”

“Get out of my way, Ichigo.” A red sphere formed on Aizen's fingertip. “All of you. Get out of my way now.”

“No,” repeated Hitsugaya. “ _Bankai._ ”

Nothing happened.

Ichigo was stunned, but didn't spend too much time pondering why. The cero shot forward, followed by nine others. Aizen had unleashed one from each fingertip. Unable to check on the others, Ichigo tried to deflect as best as he could, but was immensely assured by the huge crimson bursts that neutralized the ceros. He risked a glance at Hitsugaya, who had been shielded by Komamura.

Aizen was unaffected. “Urahara. Get out of my way.”

“I didn't then. I won't start now.” Urahara pressed the brim of his hat lower. “Don't force my hand, Sousuke.”

“I must see him.” The brown-haired ex-captain stepped forward. Urahara turned his wrist and Benihime was singing through the air and dancing towards Aizen.

Everyone expected the former overlord to block the move. Or duck away. Something.

No one expected Aizen to take the blow to his shoulder.

Blood seeped out and stained the white robe Aizen wore. Urahara stilled, stunned. Aizen grabbed the blond by his wrist and squeezed. “I _must_ see him, Kisuke.”

“You can't, Sousuke. Ichigo's not the only one to promise him something. I did too.” Urahara reversed the hold. “He wants this.”

“I must see him.”

“You can't.”

Aizen blasted a kido spell into Urahara at close range, and the man flew backward. Kyoraku Shunsui caught him. Ichigo stepped forward and was prepared to slash downward, when Zangetsu suddenly objected and dragged his aim sideways. The point of the blade ended in the dirt. Aizen shoved Ichigo aside like a rag doll, no longer concerned.

_What the hell are you doing, Zangetsu?_

_:He must go in. He must see his other.:_

_Zangetsu, are you insane? He's going to kill everyone-_

_:He isn't. He just wants to see his other.:_

Kyoraku Shunsui had already engaged Aizen in battle. Once again Aizen was not really fighting, merely using kido to defend himself. Ichigo also noticed that Urahara was also arguing quietly with his zanpakuto, as was Hitsugaya with his Hourinmaru.

When Kyoraku twirled both his swords, the usual windstorm that accompanied their release didn't appear. In a blinding flash Kyoraku was trapped by six glowing rods, but the glare of his eyes was enough to express his hatred. “What have you done to our swords?” he yelled.

“I haven't done anything.” Aizen was still expressionless. There was a cut across his cheek, and a slash along his left shoulder. The shinigami ranged at the door were shuffling, very slightly, and inching backwards.

Soi Fon materialized. Aizen dodged and weaved past her lightning-speed attacks, never retaliating. When Ichigo saw Soi Fon withdraw her sword, he wanted to tell her to save the effort. He was too late. The sword flashed forward and around Aizen, always just missing him. Irritated, Soi Fon called out her shikai.

The sword did not change.

“Wha-” Her momentary distraction was enough for Aizen to kick her in the midsection, sending her flying into the assembled ranks of her division. “What the hell-”

As he walked steadily forward the shinigami guarding the doors held out their swords. But the instance he got near them their arms faltered, blades fell out of unresisting hands, and some shinigami actually collapsed to the ground. The path was clear to the entrance, except for one captain still at the door.

Aizen was now facing Ikkaku. “Are you going to try?”

“I just want you to know that Kira asked for mercy for that bastard.” The bald shinigami didn't bother releasing his sword. “And my zanpakuto refuses to answer me. What the fuck have you done?”

Aizen didn't bother answering. “Are you getting out of my way?”

Ichigo ran up and tried to yank Aizen around. The reiatsu feedback up his arm nearly caused him to scream in agony – it shrieked like a thousand banshees in serious pain. The brown-haired man shook the youth off and pushed past Ikkaku, who blocked him with a muscular arm. Aizen gazed at Ikkaku, then, with an open-palm blow, shoved Ikkaku aside.

Enraged, Soi Fon barked a command at the Third Captain, but Kyoraku shushed her. The older captain saw what Ichigo had seen: Ikkaku was sweating bullets, he was shaking, and tears were streaming his face.

Ikkaku, captain of the Eleventh, second only to Zaraki Kenpachi, was terrified.

***************

Vainly trying to keep up Ichigo followed Aizen into the domed auditorium, to be faced by rings and rings of swords. Every zanpakuto was drawn, and every shinigami ready to attack.

Ichimaru was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” Aizen asked.

“How can you come in here, Aizen Sousuke? You know you are the one man we will not allow to exit this dome alive.” Ukitake was equally courteous, but there was a simmering hatred beneath the veneer. No one blamed him – Aizen had torn the old soutaichou apart before the eyes of his devoted students.

Aizen ignored the question. “Where is Gin?”

“Not here,” Kurosaki Isshin put in. He jumped in front of Aizen. “We're not mistreating him, Aizen. He is getting a fair hearing. Now, either you surrender, or we do this the hard way.”

Having heard all that Isshin had to say, Aizen dismissed him with a flick of his eyes. He searched along the arrayed ranks, looking for... “Kira. Kira Izuru. Please, come down.”

Ichigo stopped at the entrance to the arena. He knew his bright orange hair would have alerted all others to his presence, but right now his attention was on the brunet in the center of the auditorium. But everyone's attention was on the quiet, pale blond walking to the floor of the auditorium, where Ichigo's father stood in front of Aizen.

Ichigo walked slowly in, but no one was looking at him. Everyone was staring at Kira and Aizen. The former captain waited until Kira had stopped, then walked up to the lieutenant. The assembled watched with bated breath.

“Thank you, Kira,” said Aizen softly. And then he got to his knees and bowed, forehead to the ground. “Please forgive us.”

No one dared to move. Ichigo blinked. This was unreal.

Kira was motionless as well, but Ichigo noticed how the lieutenant flushed and then, as if a weight was released, the tears came. Isshin placed a hand on Kira's shoulder and dragged him backwards slowly. Kira followed, tears still running down flushed cheeks, before he shook off his captain's restraining hand and knelt before Aizen, bowing repeatedly to his former captain, until Aizen stood up.

Shinigami, especially the higher seated officers, roared to their feet and some called out abuse. Isshin shut his eyes, then picked up Kira bodily and flash-stepped out of the auditorium. When he saw his son, Isshin merely tightened his lips in a mockery of a smile.

Aizen, looking around again, came face to face with Hisagi Shuuhei. The shaggy-maned shinigami captain was blazing with fury. “Why did you come back, Aizen?” he spat. “What have you done to Kira?”

“I've asked for his forgiveness, and he has given it to us.” The answer seemed to tick Hisagi off further, but Aizen merely continued, “Where is Gin?”

“Waiting to be sentenced after we deal with you,” said Hisagi. “I have a personal score to settle, by the way, and believe me forgiveness is not in the deal. You're going to pay for what happened to Renji.”

“Kurosaki-kun,” said Aizen suddenly. The orange-haired youth jumped. Aizen beckoned him to come closer, and Ichigo moved forward. Zangetsu was humming dangerously; something in the atmosphere told Ichigo he really shouldn't be there. “Kurosaki-kun, is the package for Hisagi-san with you?”

“Uh...” Ichigo felt in his sleeves. “Yes. Here, Hisagi. Um, Yuki wishes you all the best.”

Hisagi was taken aback. “Wh- Yuki? You got this from... from Ichimaru?”

“Yeah. He didn't say who Yuki was. Is she someone-”

“No.” Hisagi tucked the envelope away. His glare turned back to Aizen. “If you think that would-”

Aizen chuckled mirthlessly. “I know it won't. But I can't go against Yuki's wishes. Stay out of this, Hisagi-san.”

The sliding of metal against metal drew Ichigo's attention. Ukitake had drawn his own swords. “I don't care what tricks you have up your sleeves, Aizen Sousuke, but you are not leaving this place in one piece.”

Aizen looked at the new soutaichou. “Where is Gin, Juushiro? I must see him.”

“On what basis should we let you meet?” asked Kuchiki Byakuya. He was colder than all the others combined. Rukia's death had been a vicious blow to him. “You come in here, like you own the place, demanding favors when you should be in chains?”

Loud agreements rose in a clamor. The din circled in the dome, echoing and amplifying until it was one long shout to see Aizen debased and dead before their feet-

“Just let them see each other, dammit!”

All eyes snapped to Ichigo, who realized – too late – that the outburst came from his lips. He swore under his breath, knowing that he would be having a good, long talk with his father and the soutaichou after this. But he couldn't stand it anymore: attack after attack on Aizen, who has yet to kill anyone despite being able to do so; the swirl of anguished reiatsu that had torn deep into Ichigo's psyche with that one instantaneous contact; the way Aizen kept asking for a simple favor that could easily be met but was met with a huge ruckus about other things; the moment of humble repentance towards Kira. He was about to scream. He had to scream.

Zangetsu chimed in, his voice augmented and amplified by Shirosaki. _:He just wants to see his other. Help him, Ichigo.:_

“Can't – you – all of you – see,” he was having difficulty speaking; he was having trouble breathing, “Can't you see – he just – he's not here – to fight. He's not – here to fight anyone. He just – just wants to see – He just wants to see the man he loves. Just fucking let him see Ichimaru!”

“You are out of place, Kurosaki,” warned Kuchiki Byakuya.

“I AM NOT!” screamed Ichigo. His zanpakuto was adding to the turmoil in his head, and he just wanted it to end. “Just – let them – meet. You have – dozens, hundreds of shinigami here. All the captains, all the lieutenants are here. I - _I_ am here. He has – no sword. He is alone. What can they do now? Against all of us? What – can he do – now? Let them meet.”

“I agree with Kurosaki-san,” Unohana said gently.

Ichigo whirled around, trying to locate the serene captain of the fourth. She was standing nearby, just before a discreet door set into the wall. She inclined her head at Ichigo, and continued, “We should let them meet.”

“Why should we?” Renji's tone was thick with emotion. Ichigo could see the redhead, grimmer than ever with a scar cutting from cheek to chin. “We didn't get to meet our loved ones when he killed them.”

“There is a difference between what is just, and what is merciful,” said Unohana. “Lieutenant Kira has put in a word for mercy on Ichimaru-san's behalf. I now put in mine for them both.”

“As do I,” said Ichigo. “I hate them, they killed my dad, they hurt my friends, he – Aizen – drove Inoue insane. But I think – I know I want them to meet. Just once more.”

Aizen said nothing, acknowledged no word. He merely stared at the door behind Unohana. He dared not move. Without waiting for the rest of the assembled to respond to the pleas for mercy, he asked, a quaver in his voice, “Is he in there? Can I please see him?”

“I'll ask Yamada to push him out.” Unohana tapped twice on the door and it opened.

Ichigo's pulse raced when he saw Ichimaru again. The black veins had crept higher, and it was obvious he had trouble staying conscious, even while propped against a bed of cushions. But he still managed a bright smile when he saw Aizen.

“Hey.”

Aizen couldn't move until Hanatarou had returned to Unohana's side. Ichigo stood rooted to the ground, aware that the second division had filed in and were ranged behind him, blocking the entrance. But Ichigo knew Aizen saw nothing other than the frail man in the large wheelchair. He walked to him, half-smiling.

“Hey. Did you expect to see me?”

“Sort of,” said Ichimaru. His voice was faint, but since there was no sound in the auditorium everyone could hear quite clearly. “You made Ichigo and Urahara-san break their promises.”

“I'll make it up to them,” said Aizen, his eyes not leaving Ichimaru's face. “You want to sit there or in my lap?”

“Lap, please.”

Very cautiously Aizen lifted Ichimaru out of the wheelchair and then they settled on the ground. Ichigo had to bite back a sour tautness in the back of his throat when he saw Ichimaru leaning against Aizen's shoulder: the first time he had seen them doing that was in the hospice.

Aizen was trying to take something out of the bag. It was a box, caught in a bubble. Ichigo frowned: it was the _Captured Time_ hado bubble. What did Aizen put in that box? “Sorry I'm late. There was a queue, and then a blockade, and then an argument.”

“It's alright. You know I don't care much about punctuality anyway.”

“There wasn't raspberry sorbet,” said Aizen as he opened released the spell and opened the box. Cool white vapor curled above the opening, and Ichigo understood. He had to force himself not to look away. “I got you lemon and dark chocolate instead.”

“Two flavors? Yum.”

Aizen grinned and dug a spoon into the container. “Which?”

“Lemon first.” Ichimaru could barely speak, but he was still smiling when Aizen popped a mouthful of white sorbet into his mouth. Then, with an encouraging hum, Aizen spooned out a mouthful of dark chocolate, which Ichimaru ate quickly.

Never in the history of Seireitei had there been an audience of thirteen hundred and fifty-six shinigami watching one person eat ice-cream.

“I'm full,” whispered Ichimaru after the fifth mouthful of chocolate. “I'm sleepy.”

“You're always sleepy,” teased Aizen gently. He pressed a kiss to the pale man's forehead and rocked him gently.

Ichigo knew there was no one who could look the brunet in the eye at that moment. He couldn't even see; the burning sting behind his eyes could not be forced away. He took a deep breath and looked up again. He had to see this through – he had wanted this for Aizen and Ichimaru, he had to see it through.

Ichimaru's smile was weak. Even the dark veins were pulsing less strongly now. Aizen nuzzled his lover.

“I'm sorry you have to go through this,” apologized Ichimaru.

“It's alright.” Aizen's smile was equally thin. “I just wondered why you didn't say goodbye.”

“Because... because if I saw you one last time... I wouldn't be able – be able to go.” He was no longer smiling. “But I'm tired, Aizen-sama. I'm tired, and I was afraid you'd be angry... I'm so tired of being weak... I was afraid that if I was weak, you'll go away.”

“I won't be angry. I haven't been angry with you for a long time. I'll never be angry with you again.” Aizen was stroking through fine silver hair. “Rest, love. Just rest. You're not weak. I won't be going anywhere. I'll be here, with you. I'm always here.”

“I know. I know.” Ichimaru buried his face into Aizen's neck; Ichigo could barely make out the last few mumbled words if not for his immense reiatsu. “... will you remember everything? I don't know if I can. I want to. I don't know if I can. Can you?”

“Yes,” murmured Aizen. His eyes were shut now, the smile gone. “I can remember. I will remember. And when you wake, we'll remember together. Rest, love. I'm here with you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now rest.”

Ichigo's vision blurred. He twisted his head away, trying to get himself under control.

The captains all heard the final sigh. Aizen was cradling Ichimaru in his lap, his head bent over the frail form. Ichigo wanted to step up, to go into the center of the arena, but he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Until someone behind him snorted softly. “Bah, stupid show. It's all put on -”

Ichigo had his blade at the speaker's throat, nicking just a little into skin. He didn't want to know who had spoken. “Shut up. Get out. Now.” Some scuffling behind him indicated that the speaker was jostled out.

Aizen was silent for a minute. Then he looked up and saw Ichigo. There were no tears on his face, but his eyes were glimmering. “Kurosaki-kun. When you go back home, could you take Urahara and Kira to my place? Take care of our cat for us.”

Ichigo nodded.

“I do not seek judgment for the path I chose,” Aizen said to the rest of the shinigami, still in humbled silence. “Because I have already been judged and sentenced for my actions.”

Ichigo saw Ukitake frown faintly. He was still trying to overcome the emotion of the last few minutes, and didn't bother trying to understand Aizen's words. The brown-haired man placed a hand on Ichimaru's chest, opening the kimono, then closed his fingers about the black hougyoku. He pulled slowly, carefully, until the sphere was nestled in the palm of his hand. The black veins had pulled out of Ichimaru, trailed after the sphere, before snapping into it. Aizen held it up, then tossed it aside casually.

As if it were trash.

“Look at you now,” he said to Ichimaru tenderly, brushing silver hair from the bloodless face. _To the body of Ichimaru,_ Ichigo reminded himself. _It's a body now._ “Beautiful as the day we met.”

“Aizen,” said Ichigo softly. “I think you should put him down now.”

“I'll never put him down again.” Aizen smiled at Ichigo warmly. “Remember the cat, alright?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo nodded. “I'll make sure he's taken care of.”

“Good.” Aizen tucked Ichimaru closer to his own body, then traced a finger over the closed eyes. He pressed a kiss to the white forehead. “Rest, love.”

Ukitake signaled Kyoraku and Soi Fon, who stepped forward cautiously. Aizen ran a hand through his hair, tucking stray strands behind his ear – much like that day long ago, on the Soukyoku hill – and Ichigo wished he had seen earlier what the former shinigami captain had planned.

Perhaps he could have stopped it.

Perhaps he would have stopped it.

Aizen fired a cero through his own head.

 


End file.
